Memento Mori
by SSAEmilyHotchner
Summary: Standing before her grave, each member of the BAU reflects on the life and lies of Emily Prentiss. Post-ep for 6x18, "Lauren."
1. Partner: Derek Morgan

**Author's Note: I've wanted to write this ever since I heard the news that there was a chance that Paget wouldn't come back. Then I watched 'Lauren' (and cried for too many hours to count) and I _had_ to write something in commemoration of my favorite character in the whole world. Ever since then - and now that I know that Paget signed (!) - I told myself, _You need to get going on that story idea before it's too late!_ So, since I always listen to myself (yeah, right), I put my pen to paper and had this first chapter torn out of my soul. Basically what it is, is each team member's reactions to Emily's "death." Each chapter will be named after what Emily is to them. The first ("Partner") is for Mr. Derek Morgan, Spencer ("Protector") will be next, and...well, so on and so forth. This story is like my baby, so please..._please_ leave me a review or two. They mean _so_ incredibly much. Thanks in advance, and please - enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do_ not_ own Criminal Minds. (But let's just pretend I do, shall we?)**

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><p>To say that he was angry was a major understatement.<p>

He had known something was wrong when she had started coming to work late. Emily Prentiss was _never_ late. And he wasn't the only person who noticed, either. No, every member of the team saw it in the tightly strung set of her shoulders, the way she spun around at the slightest of noises, the nervous look in her beautiful brown eyes…

But when he had confronted her about it, she had brushed him carelessly away.

"_You profile me again, you'll wish you hadn't."_ She had managed a smile then, and he forced himself to believe that she was telling him the truth. That nothing was wrong, that she would be okay…and that most of all, she trusted him.

She hadn't.

No, she ran away to play hero instead, not caring that she had outright lied to his face. Not caring about who she had to leave, who she had to hurt.

Not caring about their friendship.

Running a hand over his face, Derek Morgan closed his eyes and let his mind take him back to the better days. The days of her incessant teasing and her bright laughter, her sharp, dry humor and her consoling smiles.

The days when she was still alive.

Against his own will, Derek remembered the gruesome weight of his heart when he first saw her there, lying on the dirty floor, her breathing heavy and her clothes bloodstained. Then, the stake in her side…

He saw himself, in his mind's eye, dropping to his knees beside her and taking her cold, clammy hands in his, willing her all the strength – both emotional and physical – he could muster.

But still, she had looked up at him with such a dark hopelessness in her eyes…and she had begged him.

"_Let me go."_

The three words haunted him every night. Sometimes, when his room was completely silent, he could hear her voice, barely above a whisper, calling out to him. Reaching, screaming, crying…

Pleading.

For her life or for her death, he never knew.

And he never would.

Blinking back the tears he knew would come eventually, Derek forced himself to be strong – for Emily, if for nothing and no one else. He owed her that much.

God, he missed her so much!

Looking at his murky reflection on the polished marble grey surface, he felt himself going down a dangerous path.

_Why her?_

_Why not me?_

Because even though the sheer mention of her name made him angry, even though he hated her and her absolute stupidity and inability to trust…he found his heart aching for her. Aching for the woman who never failed to take blows at his ego, and _loved_ doing do, who could intimidate the fiercest of unsubs with just one glare, who could bring any man to his knees with her heart-stopping smile.

His heart ached for his best friend.

His partner.

But, placing his rose on her coffin slowly, heavily, Derek knew that his heartache would only get worse.

Because Emily – _their_ Emily – was gone.


	2. Protector: Spencer Reid

**Author's Note: Can I just say that I absolutely _love_ writing Reid's character? I just feel that there are always more and more layers of him to discover...and to put a complex character like him to paper is really an enlightening experience. I really enjoyed getting into his head and writing this chapter, and in turn, I hope you all enjoy reading it. Thank you once again, and please - reviews are sincerely appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I do_ not_ own Criminal Minds.**

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><p>It couldn't be true. Emily couldn't be gone.<p>

How many times had she been thrown about by an unsub, only to come out of it alive? How many times had she sacrificed herself to protect others, to protect him? It seemed like only yesterday that the two of them were stuck in the God awful Colorado compound, only yesterday that she had selflessly given herself to Cyrus in exchange for his safety.

But when _she_ needed protecting, she refused to turn to any of them.

It wasn't fair! When she was new to the team, she had tried her hardest to fit in, to earn a place in their tightly knit family. But when it came to the moments that truly counted, that truly defined familial trust…she ran.

And he hated her for it.

All he wanted was a second chance. A chance to decipher – before it was too late – what she had meant when she had said _"Lauren Reynolds is dead,"_ a chance to find out what was going through her mind when she worried her nails to ragged stubs, a chance to pry the truth from her perfectly compartmentalized boxes. Her perfectly compartmentalized life.

He would show her that the team could help her.

He would show her that they loved her.

He would show her that they needed her, and that she, in turn, needed them.

And then, they would provide her with the safe haven that she so desperately coveted, but refused to ask for.

And she would be alive, with them, where she belonged.

But no. No matter how far he reached for the second chance, it always slipped through his fingers.

Pulling his coat tighter around his thin frame, Spencer Reid furiously wiped at a tear making its way down his cheek.

He couldn't help but think that the only person he would turn to after a loss this massive was the one person who had helped him through many hard times before – his addiction, Gideon's disappearance, the recurring nightmares of his father and Riley Jenkins, his relentless migraines…

The only person he would turn to was Emily.

His gaze dropped to his hands.

They were shaking.

He closed his eyes.

"_I didn't get a chance to say goodbye."_

His breathing became shallow.

"_Why run? We're her family, we can help."_

All he could hear was his heartbeat, so loud that it drowned out the priest's heavy words.

"_You've been picking your fingernails again. You only do that when you're stressed."_

He felt himself walking forward with slow steps, towards the place where his friend was at rest.

"_They just worry. Not that you're not going to worry, but they'll just make me feel like a baby, you know?"_

"_I do."_

The perfect red rose fell from his grasp, joining the others on the gleaming wood enclosure.

"_Something Prentiss said seventeen days ago…"_

"Goodbye, Emily," Spencer whispered thickly, letting the wind take his words to some faraway place.

"…_Lauren Reynolds is dead."_

Her voice rang in his ears and, opening his eyes reluctantly, he swore he could feel her enveloping him in a hug, keeping him safe, as she had done on that cool Colorado night in front of the flaming compound. He could still see the shadows of bruises on her face, the dried blood where the mirror had cut her cheek…she was so close…right there in front of him. Maybe if he reached forward enough, he could grab her and bring her back…

…but just like the second chance, Emily slipped through his fingers.

"_She never made it off the table."_

And, turning away from the others, Spencer let his guard drop and the tears fall.


	3. Mentor: Ashley Seaver

**Author's Note: Never in my life did I imagine it to be so difficult to get into character as Seaver. All the other chapters took me less than a day to write; hers took me four. But after playing off of a couple Rossi quotes, and even an Emily quote from 'Masterpiece' (4x08 - yes, I was desperate), I found that Ashley Seaver wasn't as difficult to read as I first assumed. That being said, I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into her mind, and remember - reviews are my best friend. :) Thank you in advance.**

**Disclaimer: I do_ not_ own Criminal Minds. (But let's just pretend I do, shall we?)**

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><p>Glancing at the worn, lifeless faces of her colleagues, she bowed her head in solemnity.<p>

"_You haven't known Prentiss for five years. You're unprejudiced."_

She didn't know how to feel.

Dave's words rang in her ears. Sure, maybe she _hadn't_ known the woman for as long as the others had been given, Ashley Seaver had gotten to know the _true_ Emily Prentiss. The Emily Prentiss who – in her eyes – was worlds apart from Lauren Reynolds.

Maybe it was because of that short time that Ashley was able to look past the deceit, secrecy, and mistrust, and see that Emily had really cared. She had, after all, made the ultimate sacrifice – herself for her friends. Her family.

"_Doyle's killing families. She ran…to save us."_

She let out a quiet sigh. Perhaps it was due to the four short months, or perhaps it was due to the ordeal with her father. But either way, she understood. In its own twisted way, death was a part of life, and life was a part of death.

Out of all of them, Emily had been the one who could fully accept it. Her unwavering physical and emotional strength in the face of darkness was a trait many in the BAU, in the FBI, strove to achieve.

Idly fingering the soft petals of the rose in her grasp, Ashley thought back to the woman who had helped her through her first rough days on the team, the days when she was fresh out of the academy.

"_As the last person to join this team, I know how overwhelming all of this can be. It really does get easier. I'm not exactly sure if that's a good thing…but if you need anything, I'm around."_

Emily had been her mentor, a proud, independent _female_ figure who she could look up to, who she could model herself after. Being a woman in a male-dominated profession was never easy, but Emily stood her ground day after day, ignoring the leers, the nasty comments, the condescending gazes…

And that was just one of the many things that Ashley admired about her.

God, she missed her already. They _all_ did.

She let a tear slip down her pale cheek. Who would she look up to now? Who – which woman – would help her and guide her through the trying years? She struggled to keep the feelings of loss and being lost at bay. _Someone_ on the team needed to stay objective, to stay strong.

Sure, they were all angry, but it was a sad anger, a raw emotion that one only felt in times of desperation. They all had made themselves believe that maybe, just _maybe_, they could have stopped her.

But deep inside, they knew; Emily Prentiss was an unstoppable force when she set her mind to something, especially when it came to matters involving the people she loved.

Ashley didn't have to have twenty, or ten, or even _five_ years to see that the feeling was mutual.

That love, no matter how buried by depression, disbelief, or misplaced anger, was what each and every one of them needed, like the oxygen they breathed. They needed to come to terms with reality, and understand that everything Emily did, no matter how careless and outright _stupid,_ was done out of love.

They would grieve; they all were. All the stages were there. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression…

But at the end of that heart-wrenching road, laid acceptance. As the member with the freshest eyes (was that not what Dave had called her?), Ashley hoped, with every fiber of her being, that they would push past the lies and finally understand the magnitude of the gift they had been given. And if they couldn't, she would be there to help them see.

She owed Emily that much.


	4. Sister: Penelope Garcia

**Author's Note: I had absolutely no idea I would get so emotional when it came to Penelope's character. I had to play off of their sisterhood, so - of course - I felt it was necessary to include the scene in the restroom from 'Valhalla', the voice message in 'Lauren'...it was tough, but I hope you find that the end result is beautiful in its own way. Also, I'm still borderline with my feelings about this, but I've decided not to have a chapter for JJ, since she wasn't _officially_ part of the team at the time of Emily's 'funeral.' JJ will, however, be portayed in Hotch's chapter; after all, their stories regarding Emily's 'death' are remarkably similar.**  
><strong>Thank you reading and sticking with the characters thus far, and please know that reviews are greatly appreciated. Thank you.<strong>

**Disclaimer: I do_ not_ own Criminal Minds. (But let's just pretend I do, shall we?)**

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><p>She had to be dreaming. That was the only reasonable explanation. Yes, it was all a horrible nightmare. In a matter of minutes, she would wake up snuggled on the couch with Kevin and see Buffy drive a stake into yet another vampire. She always fell asleep during Season Three reruns, anyway.<p>

_Oh God, stakes._

Images of Emily flashed behind her eyes in rapid succession. Sweet Emily at the hospital for Henry's birth, wild Emily dancing her worries away at a local bar on their girls' night out, compassionate Emily approaching Hotch about possibly adopting Carrie, no-nonsense Emily putting in for a resignation instead of whispering in Strauss's ear…kick-ass Emily surviving every single unsub attack of her history.

All except one.

Morgan's macabre recall flooded her memory; how Emily had been laying there, on the cold floor of the abandoned warehouse, a table leg imbedded in her side. A _stake,_ like one straight out of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer._

Except Emily was not a vampire! Penelope Garcia internally cursed Joss Whedon. Emily was not a vile, blood-sucking creature who preyed on victims in the night. No, Emily was the strong-willed woman who fought psychopaths like that. She was a woman who loved her team, her family. She was a woman with an adorable black cat, boyfriend troubles, and a penchant for all things daring.

"_How's it going, stranger?"_

"_Ah, I'm a little tired. I went salsa dancing last night."_

"_Oh my God, like I need another reason to find you _amazing._"_

She was, simply, incredible.

Burning tears rolled down her flushed cheeks and she let them run, let them continue on their morbid journey that had an end, just like everything else in life. Just like every_one_ else.

Her shoulders shaking almost imperceptibly, Penelope cried for her sister. She cried for the brunette whose sheer presence made everything better, made her day brighter. And because of what Emily had told her, in the restroom on that last day…she knew the feeling was mutual.

"_I know what the world can do to a girl who only sees beauty. Like you. Somehow, you…you always make me smile. And I don't think I've ever thanked you for that."_

God, all she wanted to do was take Emily into her arms and keep her there. At least there, she would be safe. At least there…she would be _alive._

Tears still streaming, she shuddered out a sigh. Emily _couldn't_ be gone! What she would give to hear her sweet laughter just once more…that wasn't too much to ask, was it?

Pinching herself as hard as possible, Penelope closed her eyes, counted to three…

…but when she opened them, she was still there, standing before the eerily beautiful coffin that housed her friend. Her _sister_. Her heart wrenched as she realized that Emily must have been subjected to so much pain for her casket to be closed; for her body to not be seen by the people who had seen her through the best and worst times of her life…

Of their own volition, her words from the impassioned voice mail came back to her.

"_God, Emily, what did you think? That we would just let you walk out of our lives? I am so furious at you right now! But then I think about how scared you must be…hiding in some dark place, all alone. But you're not alone, okay? You are _not_ alone. We are in that dark place with you. We are waving flashlights and calling your name, so if you can see us, come home. But if you can't, then…then you stay alive. Because we're coming."_

But her word hadn't been enough. They had been too late.

"_She never made it off the table."_

How were they supposed to do their jobs each day, save other peoples' lives when they couldn't even save the life of their own family member?

She vaguely felt Derek's arm cup her elbow in a means to steady her before she was walking forward and placing her rose carefully atop the others.

_It's just a dream, just a dream…I'll wake up, and see her laughing at something Reid or someone else said…_

_I have to be dreaming…_

_Yes, that's right…it is just a dream._

But no matter how many times she pinched herself, she didn't wake up.


	5. Confidante: David Rossi

**Author's Note: Well, here you go. The penultimate chapter. And who better than David Rossi? His character was easy enough to write - maybe because I always saw him and Emily as two people who could confide in each other (see "Demonology" for further examples), and that I knew they would have at least a fair amount of trust in each other. Also, in "Lauren", I noticed that he always stood up for her (against Morgan's verbal, angry attacks), so naturally, I had to make his character in this story one that would truly understand why she did what she did and not judge her for it. I hope I portayed them justifiably, and I hope you enjoy this foray into the mind of the senior profiler. Please leave me some feedback - it means the world to me, and it spurs me to write even better. Thank you.**

**Disclaimer: I - very unfortunately - do not own Criminal Minds.**

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><p>All he wanted to do was close his eyes and drink away the pain.<p>

Sure, in his twenty-odd years at the Bureau, he had seen more than his fair share of young lives come to an end; they had been some of the sharpest minds and the finest agents he had ever known. But Emily…

Emily surpassed them all in a single heartbeat.

She never backed down, never gave up, always stood her ground. If she had things her way, she would be the first through any door and the last to leave. She was a force unparalleled by any he had seen.

And now, she was gone.

His heart pounding painfully against his chest, David Rossi searched himself for one inkling of reason. To him, it wasn't a matter of trust – or, to his colleagues, the lack thereof; no, he fully understood the woman's actions and his respect for her only grew deeper because of them. To him, the answer laid in the realms of spirituality. Hadn't she suffered enough?

Hell, hadn't they all?

Emily hadn't deserved such a premature end. So…why? Why had it happened anyway, regardless of how right or wrong? Why had it been her?

_Why?_

But, no matter how much he searched, he found no answer. _Nothing._

…nothing but a hollow ache taking the place of a beloved friend.

Despite his seniority, Dave had always felt that there was an endless number of things to learn from her. And so, he had listened. Listened as she confided in him, told him stories after stories, secrets she had forced herself to forget. Her tragedy at fifteen. The deep-seated rift between her and her mother. Her acceptance to Yale. Her father's ensuing pride. And his favorite…her tale of finding solace at the Academy.

Maybe it was because in Emily, he saw a younger version of himself. A _better_ version. The same values, but different approaches, the same desires, but different decisions…the same career, but different ends.

The woman had listened to him, too. She had taken to heart every word he told her; whether about his generations-old Italian family, his three ex-wives, his cabin in Commack where he could truly forget everything and just _write_…or about his thoughts of retirement. Real, final retirement.

Emily was the only one he told.

And likewise, he was the only one she had told, on that cold, Virginian winter's day when he had taken her for coffee at the abandoned building plot where _the Exorcist _had been filmed…

_That_ was what could only be defined as trust.

It just made him miss her all the more.

Glancing up at the clear, almost dreadfully beautiful blue sky, David swore he could hear her, mere steps away from where they all stood.

"_We moved around a lot when I was younger. Because of my mom's postings. It was hard to get accepted. And when you're fifteen…that's all you want. You'll do almost anything."_

Laying the gorgeous red bloom atop his confidante's final resting place, he let his hand sit atop its smoothly polished surface before whispering a quick prayer.

He could practically hear her bright laughter, see her brilliant smiles, the look on her face as she bit out, _"Don't Emily me."_

_Oh, God._

Try as he might to prevent it, a lone tear made its way down his cheek.

Then, running his gun-coarse fingers along the wood, Dave managed a, "Thank you, bellisima," before turning away and losing his faith in the world.


	6. Secret Keeper: Aaron Hotchner

**Author's Note: If I had to choose, I would say that I enjoyed writing this chapter the most. Not just because I'm a Hotly shipper - I had to suppress my urges to make this entire chapter ridiculously romantic - but because I finally was able to give Hotch some emotion, emotion that we very rarely see in his character on the show. It was an eye-opening experience for me, that's for sure. Basically, I based this chapter off the saying 'Every rose has its thorns' because I thought it was fitting; not only is this taking place during her 'funeral' which means each of the team members have roses that they are placing on her so-called grave, but in my heart, the saying applied to Emily on a deeper level. As if she was the rose, and the thorns were her secrets involving the whole Doyle ordeal. Slowly but surely, the chapter manifested in my mind, and well...here it is. The final chapter. One thing I have to say is that each of the five chapters before this was named by what Emily was to the team member, but I changed that now - Hotch's chapter is named after what he is to her. Thank you once again for reading, and I sincerely hope that you enjoy this last foray into the mind of a profiler: Aaron Hotchner.  
><strong>  
><strong>Please don't hesitate to leave some feedback; it means <em>so <em>incredibly much.**

**Disclaimer: I do_ not_ own Criminal Minds.**

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><p>Carefully studying the single, beautiful bloom in his fingers and the sharp, needle-like hills on its slender stem, he reflected on the events of the past few days.<p>

_Every rose has its thorns…_ he mused philosophically.

He shifted his gaze to the empty coffin before him.

…_and Emily Prentiss is no exception._

She was a rose in every definition of the word. Strong-willed, but able to succumb to external forces, proud of her beauty, but hiding secrets – however ugly – amongst her petals. She compartmentalized perfectly, but all it took was one strong wind to ruffle her leaves, break one off, and carry it far away.

He, for one, could not – would not – bring himself to judge her. After all, he, too, had his fair share of secrets…one of which would impact the lives of his team members more than they could all imagine.

They were _all_ lost, wandering. There was only one difference between him and the others.

He knew where they were headed. He knew the _truth._

The others didn't. And when they found out…

They would be hurt, angry. Some would understand his decision, _Emily's_ decision; Dave, maybe. Others would lash out. Others would never trust him again.

In his heart, Aaron Hotchner knew it was worth the risk.

To him, Emily Prentiss was worth any risk.

Meeting the soft, blue-eyed gaze of Jennifer Jareau across Emily's so-called grave, he nodded imperceptibly, the action for her eyes only. They had done _the right thing._

…hadn't they?

How could he convince the others of that when he was having doubts himself? At JJ's grim announcement that Emily had never made it off the table, his heart had plummeted. But then, in the hallway outside the visitor's lounge, she had whispered three words that changed everything.

"_She made it."_

Emily was _alive._

And the others couldn't know. It was something he understood; the less that knew, the safer she would be.

And in the grand scheme of things, that was all any of them would have wished for; her safety. Her return.

But he began to question himself. He began to question everything. He knew it wasn't a healthy road he was travelling, but he just couldn't help it. When would he see her again? With her wide smiles, her dreamy brown eyes…

Would he _ever_ see her again? Would he be able to take her hand and walk her into the bullpen, and reunite their family?

Emily had been there for him after Foyet's attack, after Haley's death…she had been the light at the end of a very dark, very long, very _trying_ tunnel. But most importantly, she had been there when he needed help.

She wouldn't dare admit it under torture, but _she_ needed help now. And _he _needed to be there for her. He needed to be her light. It was his duty as her boss, her teammate, her secret-keeper…her friend.

Clyde Easter's voice rang loudly in his ears. _"You see, there's no _catching_ Ian Doyle. He'll escape from your prison as easily as he did in North Korea, and then…all hell breaks loose. If you want to stop that man – if you want to bring Emily back – you have to put a bullet between his eyes yourself. Can you do that? Can you break your oath, Agent Hotchner?"_

"_No."_

"_Can you take one then? Can you swear that your team – that _you_ – will save her?"_

He would.

Even if it cost him his job, even if it cost him his _life_, he would.

Because, yes, every rose has its thorns. But the thorns do not define the rose. He would teach Emily that.

Someday, he _would_ bring her home.

He could only hope that someday was soon.

**THE END.**


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